Chant of Blood
by dantesdarkqueen
Summary: When Phaedra is taken by a blood mage, Fenris and Anders put aside their hatred to rescue her. But wait! What does the Queen of Ferelden, an Antivan courtesan, a Dalish songstress, and the Maker's Bride have to do with all this? Sequel to "Loss."
1. The Abduction

**Summary: **When Phaedra is taken by a blood mage, Fenris and Anders put aside their hatred to rescue her. But wait! What does the Queen of Ferelden, an Antivan courtesan, a Dalish songstress, and the Maker's Bride have to do with all this? Sequel to "Loss."

**Disclaimer: **I own Phaedra and the kids. Plus the various OCs. Nothing else.

**Queen's Quornor: **Originally I had planned this for Anders and some random Hawke character, then Fenris and some random Hawke character, then Anders and Aria... After much seesawing, I finally settled on Phaedra and Fenris. But I always saw my first completed-game Warden, Tamera Cousland, as the other character in this story. I have no idea what Bioware has in mind for DA3, although I do have a grand list of suspicions and theories by now, so this is my idea for what might have caused the inexplicable disappearance of not only Hawke, but also the Warden-Commander of Ferelden.

The Abduction

Fenris was in a panic.

When night had fallen, he and Phaedra had fallen asleep as usual. He had shut the bedroom door so their children would not join them and taken his wife to bed, wrapping his arms securely around her. She had snuggled into his chest and told him she loved him before they drifted off. All had been normal, and life had seemed perfect.

With the sun's rising, however, the peace had been shattered.

The elf had awoken to find the room in utter disarray, furniture broken and the walls bearing the scars of lightning, and frost dripping from the ceiling. The window had been blown apart, the precious glass laying in shards across the floor. Worse, his wife was gone.

Even more disturbing, Fenris could not recall hearing a single noise that seemed abnormal. Phaedra had been taken from him, and somehow he had slept through the battle waged right in their bedroom.

The children were undisturbed, Malcolm having opted to sleep in Leda's new bed rather than his own. They remained at rest when their father had run down the hall to check on them. Rai'eena had mumbled and rolled over, but that was their only reaction. Obviously whatever had taken Phaedra had targeted her and her alone. The family was of no concern.

What was obvious was that it was powerful. Phaedra was one of the strongest mages Fenris had ever known, and all her spells had apparently been for naught.

Had the templars finally found them, after all these years? The elf scrutinized the room and finally shook his head. This did not feel like their doing. Fenris was a wanted man himself, and the children would have been examined for signs of magic in addition to being taken. Leda's arcane abilities would have been discovered. The entire family would have been hauled away in chains, some bound for prison, the others for Chantry-run orphanages.

Yet Phaedra was the only one missing. So it could not be templars.

Fenris leaned out the broken window, examining the dirt and litter for a trail. His gaze fell upon something in the fallen leaves, and his lip curled in a snarl.

Blood magic had been at work. The leaves were splattered with it, and none of Phaedra's spells could draw blood. The spot reeked of vile energies. When he craned his head to check the wall outside, he noted a smear of blood in the vague shape of a hand, too large to belong to his wife.

But why would a blood mage have taken her? From his experiences with Tevinter's magisters, Fenris knew she was the _least _likely to be targeted by such filth. Not only was she immensely powerful, Phaedra was not a virgin. Maidens and untried youths were the preferred victims of maleficars, because innocence lent more magic to unholy rites. It would make far more sense for one of the children to be snatched. Yet they remained, and their mother was missing.

This was not random. It couldn't possibly be.

He could not confront such a powerful monster by himself.

Fenris stalked across the bedroom to the corner farthest from the window. Kneeling, he ripped up one of the floorboards to reveal a small hole in the ground. Within that hole was a ring inscribed with a tiny rune on its flat face. He picked it up between two of his fingers, considering the piece with narrowed eyes.

Before the flight from Kirkwall, Sandal had come into possession of two silver rings. Anders had asked the boy to enchant them, but not with any of the usual runes. The apostate had given one of the rings to Fenris and kept the other, so he could be contacted in case of an emergency.

Fenris had never used the ring. After building the house, he had secreted it beneath the floor, hoping to hide it from his wife so all ties could be cut with Anders. He had considered calling him during Phaedra's last pregnancy, when it was apparent that all was not entirely well with the unborn Malcolm, but Aneirin had been brought to them and Fenris had left the ring where it lay.

This, however, was a true emergency.

The elf smoothed his thumb down the rune, watching it flare to life with an eerie blue luminescence. As he had been instructed nearly a decade ago, he spoke to the ring. "Anders?"

There was no reply. He tried again. "Anders, are you there?"

_"Bloody flames, I didn't think you would ever use it!"_

Fenris jumped as the mage's disembodied voice wavered in the air, sounding clear yet tiny. "I wasn't sure you would answer. It's been quite some time."

_"Well, you can't exactly socialize when you've been trying to master your inner spirit. So why are you calling? I doubt it's just to hear the sound of my voice."_

"Phaedra's gone."

There was a pause. "_What do you mean, she's 'gone'?"_

"There was apparently a spellbattle in our bedroom while I slept," he explained through tightly clenched teeth. As much as he despised him, he needed Anders' help. "Someone took her, a blood mage, from the looks of it."

_"A blood mage? One which didn't bother the girls?"_

"She's the only one missing. I wasn't aware anything had happened until I woke up."

_"It takes powerful magic to make an entire household sleep while fighting with another mage. If you're right, then this is a mage on a level I've never heard of."_

Fenris could not disagree. Even among the magisters, power like this was incredibly rare. "We have to find her. Fast."

_"Are you still living in the forest?"_

"We are, yes." Fenris hoped the mage was not too far. Maker only knew how much time Phaedra had before she was bled in a ritual. If Anders was sheltering outside of Ferelden, he would go after his wife by himself and pray he could save her.

_"Then I'll be there shortly. Place the ring on the floor and step back. Oh, and you might want to put some clothes on if you haven't yet."_

Fenris followed the instructions, unsure what Anders was planning. Just to be safe, he retrieved his sword and leaned on it, the tip dug firmly into the floor. He had fallen asleep in light trousers last night, and he considered that clothing enough for the moment.

The ring began glowing brighter and brighter, until the elf had to avert his eyes lest he be blinded by the azure brilliance engulfing it. Finally the glow subsided, and Fenris nearly jumped backwards across the floor when he looked to find a very naked Anders standing above the jewelry.

"Maker's breath! Wasn't expecting that!" The mage grabbed for the blankets piled on the bed, wrapping them around his body. He looked more embarrassed than anything, considering that his staff was missing along with his clothes and he was standing only a few feet away from a very shocked elf who did not like him in the least. His ring, the mate to the one on the floor, was the only stitch of covering that remained on him.

Fenris pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning heavily on his sword. "I take it this wasn't intentional?"

"Far from it! I had my robes on when I entered the ring." Anders busied himself with knotting the blankets so he didn't have to hold them up. "Blast it, Sandal said the runes were fine! Maybe only organic material can travel through the ring?"

"You didn't tell me you could come to me," the elf interrupted, leveling a glare at his least favorite former companion.

Anders shrugged. "I didn't think I'd ever need to use that trick. Now, are there any clothes in this house that might fit me? Does Phaedra have any extra staves lying about?"

Fenris reminded himself again that he needed the apostate's help. There was little in his repetoire that was useful in detecting and combating blood magic. "There are Phaedra's maternity robes. Those are the only clothes loose enough to fit you. As for a weapon, she does keep a spare in the foyer. It's meant for Leda, once she's old enough."

"So you did have a mage. I'd wondered." Anders held the blanket closed at his hip while Fenris stalked over to the cracked wardrobe, digging through the various garments until he found the voluminous set of robes Phaedra had worn in her last months of pregnancy. The articles were thrown at the other man, along with a spare set of the elf's smallclothes, the rattiest pair available. Fenris went to the hole in the wall and stared at the bloodied litter, doing his best to ignore Anders until he was decent.

"So let's say I agree with you about an extremely powerful blood mage abducting Phaedra and dragging her away. How are we supposed to find her?" the mage asked.

"We track them. There is a trail." Fenris' jade eyes narrowed upon the ground, following the crushed leaves. No drag marks were apparent, which meant the perpetrator had picked his wife up and carried her. Odd behavior for a blood mage. But then, nothing about this maleficar seemed to follow the norm.

"What about the girls? I imagine you won't want to leave them alone while we're searching for their mother." Anders grunted and fabric tore slightly. "Maker, I feel ridiculous. Were my shoulders always wider than hers?"

"I'll take them to the Dalish. Merril's clan came south a few years ago, and they're staying in the area until their new Keeper arrives with another group. Phaedra got back in their good graces when she healed two of the clan's children and their elder. I still can't believe they don't blame her for what happened to Marethari." He shook his head at the unpleasant memory. "They might agree to watch the children until we have returned, if only to have access to such a powerful healer. Aneirin isn't easily found, after all."

"Who's Aneirin? You can turn around now. I'm in the robes, for what it's worth."

Fenris turned, and could not stop the smile that tugged at his lips. Anders looked especially foolish in the maternity garb. It was stretched tight around his shoulders and arms, but the rest of it had far too much room in the fabric. Below his chest, the linen hung in uneven drapes to the floor while remaining straight and unwrinkled at his sides. The neckline was far too wide on him, considering that it was meant for a woman whose breasts were heavy with milk. This was compounded by the knowledge that this was the first time the elf had ever seen him without his customary feathered pauldrons. The apostate kicked at the front of the robes, revealing his bare feet. He was severly unlucky in that regard, because neither Fenris nor Phaedra possessed boots large enough to accomodate him. "I don't think the ladies are going to flock around you, so long as you are wearing that," the amused warrior observed.

Anders gave him a sour look. "Stuff it. Now, who is Aneirin?"

"He's the other healer who calls this forest his home. From what I've been told, he's a runaway from the Ferelden Circle who was nearly killed by templar hunters. He survived the wound and became a gifted healer to the Dalish when they come through." Fenris gave the other man a smug look. "He's also the man who saved Phaedra's life when she gave birth to Malcolm four years ago."

The apostate pursed his lips but did not comment on the verbal jab. Instead he crossed his arms and lifted one brow. "I think it's best we get going with all due haste. So, who gets to tell the children why they are going to be staying with the Dalish?"

Fenris sighed and went to wake his offspring.


	2. The Meeting

**Summary: **When Phaedra is taken by a blood mage, Fenris and Anders put aside their hatred to rescue her. But wait! What does the Queen of Ferelden, an Antivan courtesan, a Dalish songstress, and the Maker's Bride have to do with all this? Sequel to "Loss."

**Disclaimer: **I own Phaedra and the kids. Plus the names of the various OCs. Nothing else.

**Queen's Quornor: **Now we find out what's happening on Phaedra's end, and meet Tamera! This chapter was a little troublesome, because I couldn't differentiate the women based on their appearance and accents are pretty difficult to convey through a common dialect. Small bit of trivia: I chose all of the women's names based on some physical or mental quality about them, with the exception of Tamera and Kaelia. I also chose the sisters' last name from my family history, since I am descended from Clan Nesbit. Yes, I take pride in my heritage. Who wouldn't?

The Meeting

Her eyelids felt heavy, as though gummed together. She felt shackles around her wrists and ankles, and the heavy drag of chains when she moved her limbs. In the distance, she heard the steady drip of water splashing against stone. She tried to touch her magic but it was so weak, as if she had been drained of her power. If she concentrated, she could sense her mana slowly seeping away. A steady, barely audible hum buzzed in her ears. She had been emptied of magic before, in Kirkwall, but no templar could continue erasing mana for so long.

Phaedra's last memory was of battle, fighting to keep her family safe from a legion of shades and their fell master. Obviously she had lost. But how had she gotten here? What of Fenris and the children? Were they somewhere nearby? Her heart raced at the thought of them languishing in chains.

She cracked her eyelids, unsurprised to find herself in darkness. The only light came from a small, barred window in the door.

The bound mage debated whether it was best to keep silent or call out. At last, she screwed her courage and chanced a cry. "Is anyone there? Hello?"

"Who is speaking?" came a reply. It was a woman's voice, throaty but clear. To Phaedra's ear, she sounded Ferelden, possibly nobility. There was a finesse in the pronounciation that did not seem present in any peasant's speech.

"I am Hawke, once Champion of Kirkwall. Who am I speaking with?"

"Tamera Theirin, Queen and Hero of Ferelden. It is a pleasure to meet you, Champion Hawke."

"Likewise." Phaedra's head spun. She already knew her abductor to be powerful, but to kidnap a woman so guarded as Queen Tamera? Who could possibly be wanted of them?

"I'm here too!" A purely melodic voice echoed to them, a sweet sound with a pleasing accent. "I'm Kaelia, daughter of Keeper Ylondrian."

"I am Lady Belladonnia Juanita Torre, from Antiva." The voice of a practiced courtesan, Phaedra thought. The woman's voice dripped with sex appeal.

"My name is Giselle de Caslain, and I serve the Empress as her Lady of the Bedchamber." This woman sounded young, but purely Orlesian. There was a notable lack of spine in her tone.

Two more young women answered the call, naming themselves Sheena and Sorcha Nesbit. Their voices purred with a pleasant broque, which Phaedra knew was unique to the city of Starkhaven. She had once helped a displaced prince from that environ with a little vendetta, although their dealings had been brief. As for the family name, she knew the Nesbits to be an influential group of nobles with ties to Kirkwall's blacksmiths. "We are sisters, and I was from Starkhaven's Circle before it rebelled against the templars," Sorcha added.

"What are we doing here?" Phaedra asked, scrunching her way closer to the door. More importantly, how had their captor gotten them all? None of her fellow captives sounded like mundane peasants, but rather women whose presence would be quickly noted. Alone, any of them would make worthwhile hostages and certainly good sacrifices.

"We do not know, messere." The reply came from the Orlesian.

"We were all taken by a man wielding foul magic. I thought it was because I refused to sleep with him, until I was brought here and met dear Kaelia," Belladonnia's voice clarified.

"Our captor has been gathering us all for months." The queen sounded calm, full of quiet confidence. Phaedra could easily see how she had kept control in the Battle of Denerim, and still managed to win the loyalty of foreign dignitaries. She was a born leader. "We only have contact when he comes to feed us. For the most part, we have been left to our own devices."

"Can you use your magic, Hawke?" someone called. Sheena, perhaps.

"No I can't."

"I thought so. He keeps Sorcha drained at all times."

"So he's never touched any of you? Not once?" Phaedra asked. Why else would a mage keep so many young women locked in cells, feeding them, if not for his own pleasure?

Chains clanked beyond the door, echoing as though someone had beat them against the floor. Most likely there was a stone hallway outside the barrier, and each of the women were kept in individual cells. "He doesn't seem interested in us sexually," Tamera told her. "Apart from the initial capture, he never touches us."

"I offered to sleep with him in exchange for my freedom. He refused me, saying that such an act would taint the bride." Belladonnia sniffed. "I have no idea what he meant. There are no brides to be found here."

"He is no ordinary blood mage," Giselle added. "This man, whatever he is doing, has not even drawn our blood."

"He doesn't even mind us talking like this," Kaelia piped up. "He told me it was a small mercy, one he was willing to give."

Phaedra rested her head against the door, trying to guess what this could mean. A blood mage, who had kidnapped two of the most powerful and famous women in Thedas in addition to a courtesan, a Dalish, a courtier, and two girls, one a former Circle mage. He let them speak freely and neither touched them nor despoiled them. This did not sound like any maleficar she had ever heard of. Yet she knew their captor was a blood mage; she had fought the shades, and watched their hooded master conjure an ominous crimson mist from his wrist. But why keep his captives alive? Why not use them to augment his power, as any blood mage was wont to do? Why show even one iota of kindness to them?

What was he planning?

She thought again of Fenris and the children, and prayed that they were safe and free.


	3. The Informant

**Summary: **When Phaedra is taken by a blood mage, Fenris and Anders put aside their hatred to rescue her. But wait! What does the Queen of Ferelden, an Antivan courtesan, a Dalish songstress, and the Maker's Bride have to do with all this? Sequel to "Loss."

**Disclaimer: **I own Phaedra and the kids. Plus the various OCs. Nothing else.

**Queen's Quornor:** I know it's been awhile since I've updated this. But it's because I finally moved out of my folks' house, and the notebook in which I had this chapter written got temporarily lost in the shuffle. But I finally found it, hiding with the PS3, and so can update at long last!

The Informant

"Are you sure Mother's coming back?" Rai'eena fixed her father with a harsh green stare, her hands clamped on her meager hips. "She never said she was going anywhere."

"She'll be back, I promise." Fenris lifted Malcolm over a patch of brambles.

"You don't lie very well," his scarlet-headed daughter observed. "Where is she? Why are you taking us to the Dalish?"

"Let it be, sister. If Father says Mother will come back, then she will," Leda sensibly told her. The white-haired girl walked beside Anders, discussing magic with the older apostate.

Rai'eena shot a nasty glance at her twin, but kept silent. Fenris was grateful, as she had not stopped questioning him about Phaedra's absence and Anders' sudden arrival since he had explained that they would be staying with the elves for a time. He was tired of answering her inquiries, particularly since his nerves were already strung tight with the hated abomination so near. Phaedra had always managed to keep them from sniping at each other by distracting them; without her, there was nothing to prevent him from losing his temper if Anders pushed him. The only reason he hadn't assaulted him yet, verbally or physically, was the fact that he needed the apostate's help.

Anders, for his part, had not spoken to Fenris any more than necessary. He had passed approval about his family, and joked with the children about his ill-fitting robe and bare feet, but on the whole he had spent his time chatting with Leda. That truly wasn't such a bad thing, because she was a mage just beginning to come into her powers. Phaedra trained her daily with the same exercises her father had taught her, and Leda took great pride in showing the ball trick to "Uncle Anders". She had conjured a ball of cool green fire and was tossing it back and forth with him, delighting in each new color when he sent it back.

The other two weren't quite as fond of him. Rai'eena was a little jealous of the attention her twin was paying him, and Malcolm didn't seem to know what to think. He merely watched him with his fathomless green eyes, his thumb nestled between his lips.

Fenris finally picked his son up after the boy nearly walked into a tree.

The Dalish camp was not too far from their home. A half-hour's walk through the forest saw them at the outskirts of the camp, and a few hunters nodded their greetings when they caught sight of the family. A few of them slowed as they went about their business, staring at Anders, but the mage only offered a friendly smile in reply. Fenarel, the appointed leader until the new Keeper arrived, rose from the bench outside his aravel as they approached.

"Aneth era, Fenris. What business do you have with us?"

"I would ask that the clan safeguard my children for a time," he replied cordially.

"Father wants us to stay with you until Mother comes back," Rai'eena added, crossing her arms with a sour expression.

Fenarel gave her a surprised look. "Your mother is gone?"

"So we're told. Father won't tell us where she went."

The Dalish presented them with a blank expression. Fenris stilled, realizing that the other elf knew something. "Your children can stay. It is the least we can do in return for all the healer Hawke has done for us." To the children, he said "the hahren is telling stories by the fire. Why don't you go join him?"

Rai'eena started to say something but Leda clapped a hand over her mouth. "Thank you, Fenarel. I won't let my siblings be a bother." She nudged her sister forward, and the scarlet-haired girl would have taken a swing at her twin but for the look Fenris gave her. Satisfied that Rai'eena was sufficiently cowed, Leda took Malcolm's hand and led the way to the fire, where the clan's offspring had gathered around the aging Paivel.

Once the children were gone, Fenris turned his attention back to Fenarel. "You know of this," he accused.

"I only know a bit. You and your friend are not the first to come here seeking a woman." Fenarel faced down the other man with dignity, his green eyes daring Fenris to say anything slanderous.

"Other women have gone missing?" Anders cut in, breaking some of the tension.

Fenarel relaxed somewhat. "It started when some elves from another clan arrived at our camp six weeks ago. They were searching for the daughter of their Keeper, who has been missing nearly two years. They finally tracked her here, to the Brecillian Forest, and every day they attempt to forge deeper into the woods."

"The forest muddles them, I assume?" Anders asked.

"Indeed. The trail leads deeper into the wood than they can venture unaided." The Dalish leaned against his aravel, offering the bench to his visitors. As they seated themselves on opposite sides of the plank, he continued. "Four weeks ago, a pair of Antivans arrived. They claim to be searching for their sister, but I doubt she is related to them." He shook his head. "There was an Orlesian knight about the same time, but he ventured into the forest alone and never returned. Following that the hunt was joined by a number of templars from Starkhaven, apparently looking for the twin daughters of some noble, one of them a mage. Just two days past, King Alistair came with three guards. Apparently they are searching for his queen."

Anders stared at him, his jaw hanging loose. "_Tamera_ is missing? And she was tracked here?"

Fenarel nodded. "We suspect the kidnapper or kidnappers are based somewhere near the heart of the forest. None of our hunters ever travel that far, as dark things lurk beneath the trees. We were camped on the other side of the woods when our clan-mate Tamlen disappeared into the mirror that was Merrill's downfall. There are many ruins within the shadows, and we Dalish dare not go near." His expression turned bitter. "We have already lost too much to this forest's secrets."

Fenris shifted uneasily. It had been almost ten years, and Marethari's passing still affected the clan deeply. "Where are the other searchers? If someone has managed to capture so many women, we should pool our resources." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Anders nod approvingly and forced down the ensuring flash of irritation.

"They have been exploring the depths. King Alistair brought a limb from the Grand Oak, apparently a memento from his first journey here during the Blight. He claimed it allows him to enter the forest without hindrance. His group has joined with the Antivans and our kin." Fenarel nodded to the south. "They left a short time ago. If you hurry, you can catch them."

"I am grateful. With luck, my wife will return shortly." The men got to their feet and Anders started away. Fenris frowned at his back. "Where are you going?"

"To find a trader. I realize you disagree, but I'm not comfortable with tramping around in a forest bare-footed."

"Master Ilen is right over there." Fenarel pointed to another ararvel across the clearing, where the aging craftsman could be seen berating one of his apprentices.

Anders nodded his thanks. "I doubt he'll have any clothes for me, but might as well check. I feel like a bloody idiot in this thing," he grumbled to himself.

"You'll need some sovreigns," Fenris called. He tossed a coin purse Anders' way, which the surprised mage barely managed to catch. The warrior did not offer an explanation for the kindness, because it was not prompted by anything less than practicality. He refused to let that abomination use the staff meant for his daughter, which meant Anders was currently devoid of a weapon as well as boots. The sovreigns were to equip an ally for battle, no more and no less.

The Dalish glanced at his counterpart as Anders made his way to Ilen's landshare. "What is he doing here? I thought you despised him."

"I do," Fenris seethed. "But I need his help in case magic is involved, which I suspect to be the case."

"That seems to be a common thread amongst the abductions, from what I've been told." Fenarel folded his arms and pursed his lips, looking into the grass. "I have heard much of the individual kidnappings. The king and our kin in particular were free with their stories; it seems they were the most desperate to recover their women."

"What have you heard?"

"There was always blood involved. Each of the women's living spaces, with the exception of one, bore a single crimson handprint of a size too large for the average female. In some cases, such as the queen and the sisters, there was some scattered blood on the floor outside their rooms."

So a blood mage was involved. Fenris had not been entirely certain, not wanting to jump to the worst possible conclusion. But hearing that blood was found at each scene confirmed his original suspicion. He hid his frown and listened as the Dalish continued.

"There is another common thread. Nobody seems to have realized what happened until the morning afterwards. Most of the women came from wealthy backgrounds or held positions that ensured their personal protection throughout the day. The only one which does not seem to fit the mold is the Orlesian's charge, and even her abduction should have been noticed long before it was. I was led to believe that she was of personal significance to the Empress, and spent much of her time near at hand. When did you realize your wife was missing?" he asked, looking to his white-haired companion.

Fenris returned his steady gaze. "This morning. I never heard anything during the night, when the attack appears to have taken place. Phaedra put up a serious fight before she was taken."

Fenarel nodded, as though unsurprised. "That falls in line as well. It seems that most of the women were taken without incident, but in at least three other cases they fought back. The king said his room was torn to shreds and his wife's sword-blade was crusted with blood. The sisters both gave their abductor a difficult time, although it was for naught. Now you tell me your wife fought against her taker. Perhaps mages can sense when another mage is present?"

Fenris shrugged. "I imagine the Ferelden queen is not an apostate, so your theory has a hole."

"Just a speculation. Queen Tamera was a Grey Warden, once. Perhaps she has a similar nose for trouble." The Dalish scratched at his hair and refolded his arms. "It seems to me that this person or persons has very exclusive tastes when it comes to targets."

"At least two of his acquisitions are extraordinary women," Fenris ruminated. "But what was so special about the others?"

"About the four remaining shemlen women, I have no idea. But in the case of Kaelia, the Keeper's daughter, I may have an answer." Fenarel looked to his peer, unease in his deep green eyes. "She is counted as the greatest singer among our people. At every clan gathering, her father calls upon her to lead us in song, praising the Creators and asking for their protection until the next gathering. I once heard some of the hahren describing her voice as 'fit for a goddess, a peerless voice which in its beauty surely carries to our gods in their prison'."

The Dalish's fingers tightened upon his arm and his jaw tensed. "To my knowledge, no shemlen has ever heard Kaelia sing. So my conclusion is that someone from her clan stole her away, because there was no blood found near her aravel. But deeper in the forest where they sheltered at the time, there was a bloody handprint found near a disturbance of leaf-litter before the trail continued onward."

"So you think that she may have been taken from another?" the white-haired elf queried.

"She was not the only one missing from her clan. There was a hunter named Nuyar also in absence, and it sounded to me as if she and this hunter were involved in a clandestine relationship at the time of her disappearance. Her clan-mates told me their Keeper did not approve of the match, and so they kept their romance a secret. Nuyar has not reappeared and no body has been uncovered, to their knowledge."

"Then if they were sneaking away for a romantic encounter, and this abductor came across them..."

"You see what I am getting at," Fenarel finished with a slow nod. "My guess is that the responsible party is a shem, else he would not be able to move through shemlen territory without suspicion."

Fenris mulled over this new information. What he had seen outside his home had seemed like human work. Elven mages were not so destructive as their human counterparts, it had always seemed to him. Fenarel made a good case for a human blood mage, which was a burden removed from his shoulders. The warrior had feared that his search might end in another Keeper, or at least a First, dying at his hands.

His thoughts were interrupted by a polite cough. Fenris looked up to see Anders standing before him, still resplendent in his ridiculous robes but now carrying a corded ironwood staff of Dalish make. Beneath the drooping folds of fabric, fine elven boots covered his previously bare feet. "Master Ilen didn't have anything for a man of my size," he explained with a sheepish grin. "Looks like I'm stuck with these robes for the time being."

"Good. Perhaps our quarry will be so busy laughing at you he will not see me coming to take his head." Fenris pushed himself upright and looked at his counterpart. "Which way did the hunters go?"

"They left this morning, by the southern path." Fenarel favored them with a respectful nod. "I pray you find them with all haste, and that your wife is returned to you without any harm. She has become a favorite of the clan, and we would not see her injured."

"Join the club," Anders muttered. "I think every man she meets falls head over heels for her."

Fenris noticed the way Fenarel's cheeks pinked at the mage's comment, but pretended not to see. He had known for some time that the Dalish hunter harbored a secret love for his wife, and that his honor prevented him from acting on that affection. That was part of why the clan held no grudge against Phaedra for Marethari's death; Fenarel had argued for her innocence after they came south and encountered the former Champion once more. Her saving the lives of his clan-mates after an illness struck seven years ago had only increased his admiration for her. Fenris saw no reason to confront the other elf about it.

If Anders had seen the hunter's reaction, he possessed the grace to ignore it. Instead he swept his arm towards the south, and presumably the searchers in that direction. "Shall we?"

Fenris bit the inside of his cheek and gave a short nod. "Let's go."


End file.
